


Tin Man's Heart

by demonfox38



Series: DLC from DF38 [16]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Heart Attacks, M/M, Some ''Wizard of Oz'' elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38
Summary: Hearts can't be made practical until they are unbreakable. But, is that a design flaw the Engineer really wants to fix?
Relationships: Engineer/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Series: DLC from DF38 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677937
Kudos: 14





	Tin Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on January 14th, 2012 to both TF2Chan and Tumblr. If I were a proper smartass, this would have been called _Tin Mann's Heart_.

A slight swelling in his chest stirred the Engineer. He grumbled, pressing his head against the back of the old leather couch. Soft hair brushed by his cheek. He tilted his head to the right, a small smile creeping its way across his face. Well, this was rare. He thought of it being almost impossible. The Sniper was asleep, his head buried into the crook of the Engineer's shoulder, legs flung over the arm rest. It was strange enough that he'd even dared to fall asleep outside of his van, considering his paranoia about the enemy Spy. Even when he did, it was only for practical reasons—he couldn't make it back to his van, it was too cold, somebody was there to watch him, so on. He was not exactly—well, neither was the Engineer, but—ah, was it even worth wondering how it'd happened?

The Engineer sunk into the couch, studying the call sign for their cable affiliate on the television set. They'd been up watching movies all night. Just whatever was on the channels that they could receive. It was one of those unusual occasions where something tolerable was on the tube. Not junk sci-fi flicks. Not war propaganda. Genuine American cinema. And heck, the Sniper hadn't seen a lot of films. It was a good way to burn time. They'd been too late to catch the entirety of Casablanca, which was a bit of a shame, but they'd caught The Wizard of Oz after that. Well, he thought they had. He'd fallen asleep sometime between a house being dropped on the Wicked Witch of the East and this call sign. Lord knows when the Sniper slipped into slumber. Ah, well. It had still been a good night, anyway.

He wiped his face with his free hand. He was feeling a little under the weather, the stress starting to catch up with him. Even the constant respawning did only so much to take away his fatigue. It was surprising that their entire team didn't drop dead from what they underwent on a daily basis. He probably should have gone back to his bedroom, but the weight and warmth on his shoulder kept him anchored. Ah, heck, what did it matter? It wasn't like anyone was going to storm the recreation room and mock them. Everybody had somebody to rely on, someone to confide in during their weak moments. Some of them even—well, at first he'd—but, when you got down to it—

Well, how could he put it?

The Engineer had spent so much time with his nose in books that he'd never really had time to explore anything outside of a congenial friendship. Even his own mother and father had been cool and reserved, too busy in their own work to be intimate. Public displays of affection? That was flat out. Now that he was out in the world, not buried waist deep in books and sludge from oil wells, he felt out of place and awkward. War had changed him. He didn't have patience for the domestic side of life. And while there were good women out there—hell, there was a good woman working as the Administrator's secretary—they were few and far between, snatched up early and often by brutes. Bar trolls and malt shop teens did little to catch his eye.

He didn't think this would happen. He was a son of the Lone Star state, a man's man. Okay, maybe he was a little short, but still. Most men like him—well, the ones he knew—were more parody than truth, more rhinestone than cowboy. He hadn't considered himself a friend of Dorothy's, but that was before he'd been cut down and humbled by this blasted war. He'd seen acts of compassion and bravery beyond anything he'd experienced before. Men risking their lives for each other, braving bullets and fire to save their fellow man. When he realized he was a part of this cycle, when he saw he did things that no normal man did to comfort and rally his team, then he began to recognize the pangs in his heart as something beyond friendship.

So, what did it matter what the Medic and the Heavy did together? Did it really mean anything when the Soldier and the Demoman had to sleep off their drunkenness in the American's Jeep? Wasn't it okay if the Spy loved the Scout's mother, if it meant he'd spend more time to defend that young man? If the Sniper slept on his shoulder—if he came to the Texan when he was in danger, alone, abandoned—did it matter if he was all too eager to lend that part of himself? It kept them together, gave them a reason to fight.

The Engineer closed his eyes, leaning his head against the Sniper's. It was too much to think about right now. The stress and confusion wound around him, made his good hand feel numb. His robotic fingers rested on the Sniper's stomach, his arm behind that vulnerable spine. Dignity be damned. This was what he wanted, what he thrived on. He couldn't be the world's perfect man, but he could be a decent fellow in this little room. He drifted back to sleep, his pulse flittering away.

Maybe that was what made waking up so much more horrific.

He had awakened outside, his body crumpled against an old train car. He was coated in dust. Hell, everything was sand-blasted. The skies were strange, smeared with dirty clouds. The Engineer's heart began racing. He was unarmed, alone, a crumpled couch shattered beneath him. He jumped onto his feet, trying to figure out where he was.

The Engineer hiked away from the train car, going up a hill and over a rickety bridge. What had happened? Everything was stripped bare, crops completely wiped out from the fields surrounding the main roads. Missiles were plucked from unsecured silos, lying like fat logs in the dust. Well, there went the reason to defend their turf in Granary. Some of the wooden fencing had been ripped asunder, barbed wire knotted around electrical poles. This was a disaster. It would take years to repair.

No, now was not the time to worry about that. The Engineer cupped his hands around his face, giving the team's emergency call. "Anybody out there? Hat check!" Okay, so perhaps it was a little quirky. It would get an immediate response from anybody, if they were out there.

The only noise to return his calls was the wind.

Now that he thought about it, it was rather blustery. He continued his jog around the countryside, getting a grip on where he was. Granary was located on the New Mexican-Texan border, rather close to the northeastern side of New Mexico. Tornadoes were rare in the state overall, but close to Texas and Oklahoma, the probability for a twister did increase. Maybe it'd just been a fluke. God, he hoped the respawn generator was okay. Worst case scenario, the next fortress over would kick on and recreate his teammates from a copy stored in a floating satellite. Still, that would leave him alone, unprotected. If somebody from the other team had survived—

Another awkward shudder in his chest threw off his pace. He ignored the pain, trying to find his way back to the base. The Engineer kept calling to his teammates, his queries unanswered. He trotted down a driveway, finding himself back his team's barracks. The base was completely leveled. Vehicles were tossed aside like scorned toys, buried face down into the dust. He coughed, pieces of the campsite raining down in yellow clumps around him. Nobody could have survived this. It was a direct hit by some cruel force of nature.

He couldn't let that be the end. He had to find somebody.

The Engineer pushed into the remains of the barracks, finding the stairwell into the basement. He'd been plucked up and pitched away like a little scrap. There was no way that the Sniper could have—no, he had to see. What if he were trapped down there, pinned under timbers? Hell, what if any of them were down there? The basement was supposed to be the safest place in a storm like this. Somebody had to have the brains to get to safety.

He jogged into the remains of the rec room, his heart thumping in heavy, consistent rolls. There was something in the shadows, crushed under plaster and wood. A cry escaped him before he could pipe it away. The Engineer jumped into the mess, flinging debris aside. No, he couldn't let any of them—he couldn't let that bastard—not like this.

His robotic hand touched something out of place. It was large enough to fit in the palm of his hands. Pulling back, the Engineer felt his heart stop. No. This was—this couldn't be. It was metallic, crafted and bolted into a soft, pleasing shape. There was a clock in the center of it, face undamaged by the storm. It continued ticking softly, his pulse slowing to match it. He pressed his human hand along the top, running his fingertips along the daisy chain that led to a clasp. The metal glowed in the dismal, murky world, shining in the most brilliant shade of red he'd ever seen. He knew what this was. Something that was beyond reality.

He was holding the Tin Man's Heart.

/***/

With a gasp of air, the Engineer woke up. Of all the things he could have done, he laughed. Of course, it was a dream. Why not? Things hadn't added up, anyway. Everything had been so wrong, hadn't it? Not to say that his life wasn't sometimes like a wide-awake nightmare, but he was usually capable of telling fact from fiction. Still, he was grateful. He was alive, everything was okay, and he was—wait. He was in the Medic's infirmary.

That certainly didn't seem right.

The Engineer propped himself up, taking a moment to observe his settings. He found his shirt and overalls cut, a medi-beam pointed squarely at his chest. Surgical tools were out but cleaned. A blood-splattered gizmo lay on the counter next to the tools. He recognized the little device. That was the component that the Medic had attached to their hearts so that they could be charged when the capricious German felt the need for them to become invincible. Well, there had to be a good reason it wasn't in his chest. He frowned, wondering what could have—oh.

A small sigh escaped him. He found the Sniper at his bedside, sleeping in one of the chairs from the front lobby. His hat was tilted down, a tattered novel on his stomach, his face fixed in a low frown as he slumbered. But why—oh, did he need to ask? He knew why. He slipped his hand across the bed, finding the Sniper's own on the chair's arm rest. Fingers laced into his. The Engineer wasn't sure if that was instinctual, or—

"Hey, Truckie."

The Engineer smiled. "Hey, Stretch." He gave the Sniper's hand a light squeeze. "Care to tell me why I'm here?"

"'Bout died on me, ya bloody bastard." The Sniper spoke harshly, but a grin was just below the brim of his hat. "Heart attack."

The Engineer's eyes widened. "Ya kiddin'?"

The Sniper shook his head. "Doc thinks that the wiring in that gadget he put in ya was bad. Had to take it out. He's already put a fresh one in."

"Really? Well, I'll be damned," the Engineer said. 

Death wasn't as much of a deterrent to a team with a machine capable of reviving them at will, but it was something to be concerned about. Faults had a way of carrying over between deaths. One had resulted in several new scars on the Sniper, the most prominent being the horizontal strike across the left side of his face. Not to mention a night of hell for him. The Engineer shuddered, thinking about how that man had been left alone in his van for hours, constantly dying until the Texan had gotten him stabilized. If that happened to him, the entire base could be endangered. He was the only one with enough tech savvy to keep their machine going. If both he and the machine crapped out, it could be curtains for everyone.

Despite all of this, he was surprised to find that he was taking this health emergency much better than the Sniper. The Australian tipped his hat back, his eyes dark and weary. "Are ya—I mean, do ya feel—"

"I'm okay. Don't have to worry about me." The Engineer patted his hand twice. He glanced over at the clock, trying to tell the time. Geez, it had to be past four o'clock. "If ya'd like, ya could probably head back to yer van. No reason to stay on my account."

The Sniper nodded, but he didn't move an inch. "Told the Doc I'd watch over ya. He needs more sleep than I do, anyway."

That brought another slow grin to the Texan's face. Of course. That damned Australian had a stubborn streak to him, but it coupled nicely with his loyalty. That was probably why he was such easy prey for the enemy Spy. He just trusted his teammates so much that sometimes he couldn't tell a lie from the truth. It didn't go unnoticed. Not by his enemies and not by the Engineer.

"Well, then." The Engineer pushed himself away, settling down on the right side of his cot. "Come here."

The Sniper cocked his head, confused by the request. "What?"

"Lay down," the Engineer beckoned.

There was a moment's hesitation from his friend. "I—well, what if the Doc—"

The Engineer smiled. "If anyone'll understand, it's the Doc. Don't worry."

His soft words finally won the Sniper over. There wasn't a lot of extra room on the cot, but there was just enough for the trim man to wriggle into. He laid on his back, a little rigid. The Engineer wrapped his left arm around him, getting him to settle down. Bones and muscles loosened, melting into his grasp. He slipped his robotic hand over the Sniper's head, tossing his hat across the room. It wasn't long before that head full of downy hair was back on his shoulder, breath low and hot on his collarbone.

Even with the good doctor's work done, the Engineer could feel his practical heart crumble and break.


End file.
